


A Practice In Trust

by lilbluednacer



Series: Fear of Falling [3]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Dance, Alternate Universe - Human, Eating Disorder Recovery, F/M, Lydia goes to therapy, POV Stiles Stilinski, supportive boyfriend Stiles
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-11
Updated: 2018-10-11
Packaged: 2019-07-29 08:22:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,121
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16260368
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lilbluednacer/pseuds/lilbluednacer
Summary: Stiles hadn't realized how much he had gotten used to Lydia shutting him out until she finally started letting him in.





	A Practice In Trust

**Author's Note:**

> Lydia finally gets some therapy and Stiles finally gets his own POV <3

The waiting room in the therapist’s office suite is almost excessively soothing - calming cream painted walls with sage green trim, low chiming music playing over the sound system, a little tinkling fountain in one corner. Stiles sighs quietly to himself and shifts around on the ocean blue colored upholstered loveseat. He's the only person in here, Lydia disappeared behind a door across the room forty-eight minutes ago. He's been staring blankly down at his phone ever since, idly scrolling through USF’s course catalog.

He taps his fingers against his thigh and checks the time again, leans out of his chair a little to flip through the magazines on the mirrored coffee table: US Weekly, Yoga Journal Magazine, Alternative Medicine, Vanity Fair. 

Lydia hadn't wanted to talk about it when she asked him to take her here for her first appointment, she just asked him if he was free and requested a ride and then refused to say anything more about it. He'd taken it as a sign of progress that she'd even asked - not for the ride, Lydia has absolutely no shame when it comes to that - but the fact that she'd been honest and upfront about what she needed it for.

He hadn't realized how much he had gotten used to her shutting him out until she finally started to let him in.

The door to the office swings open and Stiles scrambles to stand up as Lydia stalks across the waiting room, her perfectly curled hair falling over the shoulders of her ruffled [dress](https://www.fashmates.com/set/lydia-30-1538973288296).

“Lets go,” she says, and struts right past him, leaving Stiles tripping over his feet as he catches up with her.

“Hey, hey, Lydia, hey.” He catches her by the wrist as they walk out of the waiting room and into a hallway. “Hey, how was it, you okay?”

“I'm fine,” she says shortly, walking towards the elevator. “It was fine."

He bites his lower lip, fighting all of his instincts to push back at her until she opens up, because he gets that this is a big deal for her, _especially_ for her, because Lydia's the kind of person that views needing help as some kind of weakness and he knows that just his presence makes it harder for her to pretend like she didn't just spend the last hour talking about terrible things with a stranger.

Lydia sighs and hits the button for the elevator. “Sorry. It was just - exhausting, I guess.”

She offers him a wan smile and when Stiles reaches down for her hand she grips his palm so tightly it almost hurts. The elevator dings and the doors slide open, they walk in together and Stiles reaches out to hit the button for the lobby with his free hand before unthreading the fingers of his left hand from Lydia's so he can sling his arm over her shoulder.

“Hey,” he says quietly. “It's cool if you don't want to talk about it right now but I just want you to know, I'm so proud of you for doing this. I know you didn't really want to and that you probably hated every second of it but I think you're awesome for coming here anyway. That's a really brave thing to do.”

Lydia looks up at him with big eyes, her bottom lip trembling. She inhales sharply and nods, and turns into his chest to bury her face in his tee shirt. He rubs his hand up and down her arm, feeling out the sharp line of her bicep that disappears into the soft dip of the crease of her elbow. It scares him sometimes, how fragile she feels under his hands, this constant subtle awareness that his dumb gangly limbs could do irreparable damage to that precious body if he isn't careful with her.

He's always careful with her.

They get out of the elevator together and walk down the block where he managed to squeeze the Jeep into a metered parking spot on the street. He opens the passenger door for Lydia and helps her in before walking around to the driver's side. He gets into the car and starts the engine before glancing sideways at Lydia, who's bent over to untie her sandals so she can put her feet up on the seat. She glances at the clock on the dashboard, at him, back at the clock, and brushes a stray curl away from her face.

Stiles presses his lips together, forcing himself to be quiet, giving her time to work out whatever's going on in her head. He's been with her long enough to know that trying to rush her only makes her anxious and irritated so he just watches her - her green eyes darting from side to side, the way the afternoon sunlight sets her hair on fire. 

“Allison should be done teaching by now,” she says eventually. “Want to see if she and Scott can meet us for ice cream or something?”

Stiles blinks at her, mystified. She's been making slow measurable progress over the last two months but it's been an up and down sort of thing, after they had pizza the night he helped her move she refused to touch processed carbs for a week. She's never suggested getting dessert before, usually he has to wheedle her just to taste something and he can't help but be a little shocked. “You want to spend at least an hour in traffic driving right back to Beacon Hills so we can go get ice cream? Not that I'm complaining! I mean it's summer, it's ice cream season, and we definitely have to spend as much time as we can with those two idiots before they leave us for Davis, it's just - any particular reason you're suggesting this?”

Lydia sighs and shifts in her seat. “I have to. It's homework.”

He raises a curious eyebrow. “Therapy homework?”

“Apparently I'm not having enough _fun_.” Lydia glares out the window.

He gapes at her, trying not to laugh at how completely annoyed she looks. “What?”

Her mouth twists, a derisive expression on her face. “Part of my recovery, for whatever reason, needs to be about discovering _joy._ Bonus points if it includes food. Like getting ice cream with my friends.”

He tilts his head, thinking about how serious Lydia was when they first met, how wholly consumed she was with ballet, how she'd sit next to him at restaurants and movie theatres practically vibrating with stress. “Hey, great, lets do it.”

She sighs again and toys with a curl, wrapping it around her finger. “Honestly I’d really rather not but was my therapist’s suggestion. I'm supposed to practice my trust that I can, quote, _lose control_ in a safe way. Like poisoning my body with sugar.” 

“Excuse me, ice cream isn't poison, it's _delicious_ , and also I think this is a great idea and we should definitely do it.”

“Hm.” She suddenly shoots him a sly smile and slides across the seat so she's close enough to lean into him. “Really?”

“What's not to love? You, great, our best friends, great, ice cream, great, I'm loving everything about this.”

She reaches out and pushes his hair back from his face before trailing her fingers down to his lips; he can't help but snap his teeth playfully at her and she rolls her eyes, dropping her hand down to his shoulder as she sneers, just a little. “Of course you do. You're just _so_ easy, aren't you?” 

He grins cheerfully to cover up the sheer want that hits him, he has a, hmm, _thing_ for teasing Lydia that he doesn't really want to examine too closely. “What can I say, I have an appreciation for the simple things in life.”

Lydia leans in and brushes her lips against the corner of his mouth. “I could give you something else to appreciate.”

He shivers when he feels her lips trail down the side of his neck. “You wouldn't possibly be trying to distract me with sexytimes right now to get out of this particular assignment, would you?”

She snorts quietly before pulling away, her cheeks a little flushed, like she's embarrassed that he read her so easily. “Don't call it that.”

He smirks and shifts the car into drive before pulling out onto the street, and after a moment Lydia leans over and rests her hand on his thigh. They've hit that strange comfortable stage of a relationship where they can be in the same space without feeling pressured to talk to each other the whole time so Stiles leans back in his seat when Lydia turns the radio up, absentmindedly slapping one hand against the wheel along to the rhythm of the bass as he drives.

He knows she's just trying to avoid talking about what happened in her therapy session but he doesn't really mind, not when she's here next to him and humming along quietly to the music, the wind making her hair dance around her face. It's enough for him right now and he knows how hard she's trying, knows that eventually she'll sit him down and whisper everything that happened in that room, and he’ll hold her hand and try to be quiet while she talks and when she's finished he’ll wrap his arms around her and tell her how strong she is, how proud he is of her.

He feels so grateful he's almost sick with it, that she's not totally okay yet but that she wants to be. That she's alive and getting healthier, that every day she looks a little more beautiful, a little happier. Like the life has come back to her eyes.

When they get to Beacon Hills he drives them to the ice cream shop on Maple, he hasn't been here since that afternoon right before school let out, when they took pictures of Brett Talbot’s stupid lucky monkey sitting in a booth, its furry face smashed into a sundae. Stiles manages to get a parking spot right down the street and when Lydia gets out of the car she reaches for his hand and it makes his chest hurt, how easily she touches him now, how startled he gets because of it sometimes, like he's always re-remembering that they're together now, that he doesn't have to hold back, that she wants him as much as he wants her.

He squeezes her hand gently as they walk down the sidewalk, running his thumb over the back of her hand, her skin unbelievably soft. “Okay?”

She glances sideways at him, her lips thoughtfully pursed together. “I don't know.”

He stops walking and pulls on her hand a little to bring her closer to him. “We don't have to do this right now you know. Not if you're not ready.”

Lydia's free hand lands on his hip, her fingers crawling under the hem of his shirt. “It's not that. It's just… never mind, it's stupid.”

“Hey.” Stiles brushes her hair away from her face and cradles her jaw in his palm, feeling the thump of her pulse in her throat against his fingertips. “Nothing you feel is stupid, okay?”

Lydia blinks rapidly at him, her eyes a little glassy. “Okay.”

“Look,” he says quietly. “It's okay to be scared.”

“I'm not scared,” she says quickly. “That would be ridiculous.”

“Okay.”

“I'm _not_ ,” she insists, even as her voice shakes.

“Okay,” he says again. “I'm just saying it's okay if you are.”

Lydia presses her lips together and looks away. “Okay.”

“You want to take a walk around the block first?” he suggests.

Lydia shakes her head and steps away, giving him a brave if somewhat wobbly smile. “No, I'm ready.”

Scott and Allison are already there when they go into the ice cream shop, waiting just inside the glass doors. [Allison](https://www.fashmates.com/set/allison-30-1538973323373) jumps a little, holding her hand out to Lydia. “Hey, how did everything go? C’mere, tell me how it went, I've been thinking about you all day.”

Lydia lets go of Stiles’ hand when Allison reaches for her, pulling her over to an alcove by the windows. Stiles leans against the wall as Allison cups her hand over Lydia's cheek and whispers something. Lydia crumples and she turns into Allison's touch, bringing her arm up to hide her face in the crook of her elbow. 

“Rough day?” Scott whispers sympathetically, gently bumping his shoulder against Stiles’.

Stiles watches Allison wrap her arms around Lydia, who rests her cheek on Allison’s shoulder and turns her face sideways to peek at Stiles. Her bottom lip trembles but she manages to give him a little smile, and mouths _I'm okay_.

“Yeah, a little,” he tells Scott. “But I think everything will be okay.”


End file.
